


Angel of Darkness

by canadianpancakes



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, F/M, Kylo’s just called Ren, More tags to be added, Phantom of the Opera AU, Ren is a drama queen, Rey is tired of Ren’s bs, Sexual Tension, finn and ren are friends, like a lot of sexual tension, poe is precious and must be protected
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 01:22:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14485701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canadianpancakes/pseuds/canadianpancakes
Summary: ‘“What are you?” She asked.“That depends,” the figure spoke, his voice deep; a slow, soothing sound- almost melodic.“what do you think I am?”She thought for a moment.“An angel. Are you an angel?”The figure was silent.“What kind of angel do you believe me to be?” He spoke up.“An Angel of Music.”’~After Rey’s father dies, she is sent to Palais Garnier, where she is to train to become a bellerina. However, her heart yearns to sing, and her yearning is sedated when she meets a shadowy figure in a mirror, claiming to be her Angel of Music.





	Angel of Darkness

  
 Rey stared out of the window of the carriage, watching as the unfamiliar streets of Paris passed by. She was only fifteen, and recently orphaned.

 Her father passed away only a week earlier. His death was still a fresh wound on her heart and mind.

 She sat in a carriage across from a lady named Leia, or Madame Organa, as she had introduced herself. She had, apparently, been close to Rey’s father, and had agreed to take Rey in once he had passed. They were on their way to the Paris Opera House, Palais Garnier, where Madame Organa lived and worked as a ballet instructor. And where Rey would soon attend lessons.

 Madame Organa watched Rey from where she sat across from her. She stared at her with what can only be described as motherly concern. Rey felt uneasy under her gaze.

“Rey,” Madame Organa began, drawing Rey’s attention from the window. “Are you sure you don’t want to take singing classes? I remember your father used to say you loved to-“

 “Yes. I’m positive.” Rey interrupted her, her eyes stinging with fresh tears at the thought of her father. It broke her heart even more to agree not to take singing lessons. She adored singing. It was her coping mechanism, a way to escape reality. But she knew she wasn’t ready. The people at the opera house would laugh at her. _A prima dona want-to-be._

 She would keep her singing to herself. A way to remember her father by.

_‘And maybe my father will keep his promise. And send the Angel…’_

 She sighed and returned to the window. She could see the opera house approaching. It wasn’t hard to mistake it. Such a huge and glorious place, a building she could have only ever seen in her dreams back in England.

 “If that is what you wish,” Madame Organa spoke up again, but Rey did not turn to look at her.  
“Then you may join with the ballerinas. You won’t be too far behind the other girls. I will teach you what I can, and the other girls will help you.”

 Rey finally looked from the window, and was met with Madame Organa offering her a kind smile. Rey hesitantly nodded her head. She had little to no experience with dance, let alone ballet. She was anxious. Overwhelmed. All she wanted was to be with her father once more, to be in his arms, and to hear his voice again.

But he was gone.

 The carriage stopped, bringing her back to reality. Back to her new life- without her father.

~

 Ren paced the floor in front of his organ. Papers were strewed around the room- some crumpled, some ripped- all thrown onto the floor in a fit of rage.

 In his anger he also broke his organ bench; a leg broken off so it could no longer stand.

 How long had it been since he had written a decent sheet of music? Too long, in his opinion. He had _nothing_. Everything he wrote was absolutely horrendous.

 He was irritated and anxious. The owners of the opera house were getting suspicious and already hinted at cutting his pay- which Ren believed, quite frankly, should be the opposite, since the fools were unable to run _his_ opera house correctly.

 He promised them a new opera, and a new one they would get. He never specified _when_.

 Ren sighed. He needed some sort of inspiration. Or maybe he needed to get his mind off of the fools who run everything. Maybe both. He wasn’t sure.

 With an irritated growl, he grabbed his coat and shrugged it on. A routine check of the opera house may do him good.

~

 Rey was told to wait while Madame Organa talked to the managers of the Opera House. But, being an inquisitive child, she decided to explore. She would return quickly, she simply wanted to look around.

 The Opera House was huge, and she was certain she would get lost if she wanered too far. As she wandered, she began to hum a little tune her father used to play on his violin. It was a mindless habit. She found herself singing the tune after a moment, but caught herself. She felt her voice catch in her throat as she strangled a sob. The events of the past week hit her with the harsh realization of why she was there. She felt her eyes burning with the promise of unshed tears. But she didn’t want to cry. She had to stay strong, for her father.

 Rey blinked away the tears that had begun to blur her vision. With a sniffle, she continued on her journey.

 After a few steps, she stumbled upon one room with the door left ajar. Naturally, she walked in. It was a dressing room. It was large, and relatively empty, save for a rack of two or three costumes, a dresser, and an extravagant full-length mirror on the wall directly across from her.

 Rey stared at the mirror. It was gorgeous- covered with carved designs, trimmed with gold, and encrusted with stones and jewels. She found herself admiring it, but her attention was quickly brought to a sudden movement in the mirror. There was a figure- not her reflection, because the figure was taller, and seemed almost like a shadow. She quickly glanced behind her, believing that maybe there was someone there, only to find nothing but empty air. She felt a chill course through her as she stepped closer to the mirror.

 The closer she got, the more apparent the figure became. It sill seemed like a shadow, however, which only added to the eeriness of it. She stood directly in front of the mirror. Staring at the shadow within the mirror. Her pulse was rushing, and she felt the urge to simply run out of the room.

 But she pushed that feeling aside. She slowly brought her hand up, and hesitantly brought it to the mirror’s glass surface. Her palm tingled slightly from the icy prick of the glass. She suppressed a gasp when she saw the figure reach it’s hand out as well, and placed in against hers. She dropped her hand as if it had been burned.

 “What are you?” She asked, her voice shaky yet demanding.

 “That depends,” the figure spoke, his was voice deep; a slow, soothing sound- almost melodic.  
“what do you think I am?”

 She thought for a moment, and let out a small gasp at the realization.

 “An angel. Are you an angel?” She sounded urgent, but she didn’t care. She needed to know if he truly was an angel- if her father had truly kept his word.

 The figure was silent a moment.  
“What kind of angel do you believe me to be?” He asked.

 “An Angel of Music. That’s what my father promised me. Did he send you?” She stepped closer to the mirror, close enough for her breath to fog up the glass. She searched for any movement from the figure. He remained still and poised.  
And silent.  
She held her breath as she awaited his response.

 “Yes.” He finally spoke. She felt tears prickling at her eyes. “You need a teacher. Allow me to be your Angel of Music.”

~

 He had heard her voice as he wandered his maze of traps and darkness that protected him from intruders. He had followed her voice out of curiosity, at first. A child humming a sweet melody. But then she began to sing, and he was whisked away by her voice.

 So raw and untrained, yet, angelic! He couldn’t stop himself from following it. He needed to see who the voice belonged to.

 Ren reached the mirror, one of his many entrances to the opera house, and was disappointed to realize the singing had stopped. He stood at the mirror, contemplating if he should stay behind it, or step out, when the door to the dressing room opened.

 There stood a small girl. She seemed young, at least fourteen or fifteen. Her cheeks were rosy, and her eyes seemed red. As if she had been crying. He felt his chest ache at the sight of such a young girl being upset. He never was one to have compassion, something he had been told as a boy, but seeing that girl in such a fragile state made something within him… stir. A sense of protection.

 Ren watched the girl step into the room, staring at the mirror in awe. Then her eyes found him. How could she see him? She wasn’t suppose to be able to see him! He froze, watching her carefully. She slowly made her way to the mirror, bringing her hand to touch it. He wasn’t sure what made him do it. But he brought his hand up to hers. A small sting of pain hit his chest when she flinched back.

 Then she spoke.

 And there was no denying that she was the girl he had heard singing.

 He had a sudden need, a _desire_ , to teach her. To train her. She could be the next prima dona, with his help! He could feel the inspiration and music that had become silent within him come to life with just speaking with her.

 She thought he was an angel. An Angel of music?

 A plan began to form in his mind. Risky? Of course. But, a way to train her, to help her. Without another thought, he spoke.

“You need a teacher. Allow me to be your Angel of Music.”


End file.
